


What Were You Eggspecting?

by nodere



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Biologically speaking, Comedy, Just expect it to be a little nasty, M/M, Oviposition, SHEITH - Freeform, Tagging so you can avoid it if that sort of thing bothers you, This is neither sweet nor sexy, it's literally about two dudes with yeast infections, that's what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 05:52:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10379904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nodere/pseuds/nodere
Summary: How do you cure a yeast infection when you’re stuck on an alien spacecraft light years and galaxies away from Earth?Keith and Shiro have a problem. They need to resolve it. Unfortunately it’s not the kind of problem that can be fixed with tender words, sweet affections, or even sparring. This is a different sort of story.It’s ridiculous and gross. You’re welcome.





	

Alone in the dining room, Keith shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his half-eaten plate of food already cold.

Breakfast had been a solemn occasion, and Shiro hadn’t spoken a single word to him all morning. Instead, the man had kept his head down, silently and meticulously working through a large helping of scrambled eggs and some kind of shredded cheese-like substance in tidy rows across his plate. These weren’t quite the same as Earth eggs, but they were closer to their counterpart than anything else they had yet encountered while traveling through space. As soon as Shiro had finished, he’d quickly gathered up his dishes, presumably to take them to the kitchen. He hadn’t returned.

Keith was completely baffled. Their last exchange had been friendly: “good night” and “sleep well.”

A strange, intensely burning itch swept over him as he sat there thinking. It seemed to originate from inside his rectum and would come and go in waves of intensity. At present, it was nearing unbearable. He had first noticed it the previous afternoon while training, but had attributed it to sweat and exertion. Afterward, he’d showered, had sex with Shiro, and even showered again. He was beginning to think it was something else entirely. Tucking his leg beneath him, Keith sat directly on the heel of his boot. The pressure provided some relief, but the feeling would not go away. Trying to ease the pain, he scooted a little to either side. No good. Abandoning all pretense of decorum, he thrust his hand down into the seat of his pants, seeking the source of his discomfort as if compelled, between the moist warmth of his ass cheeks. He cringed, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he picked and scratched at himself. In an attempt to reach a better angle, Keith extracted the foot he was sitting on and braced the soles of his boots against the legs of the chair, thrusting his hips up beneath the table.

It didn’t help. At this rate, he would never be able to assuage himself of this sensation.

“Keith?” Lance called from the doorway to the room. “What in the world are you doing? Are you, like, masturbating at the breakfast table?”

Keith’s head shot up, eyes wide, having somehow missed Lance’s arrival. There he was, leaning back against the molding of the doorframe, hands in his pockets, smug smirk plastered across his face. Keith drew his hand out immediately, hoping he hadn’t been seen. The chair slid out from under him as he tried to right himself, and losing his balance, he crashed to the cool metal floor. His chin connected with a thunk to the edge of the table and pain shot up through his temples

His cheeks flushed with shame as he hoisted himself back up. “What? No!”

“Then what the quiznack are you doing?”

Keith pulled himself to his feet, rubbing his chin. “None of your business.” He noticed the faint smell from his fingers and curious, he drew his hand up to his face and sniffed. Still unable to place it, he popped his digits into his mouth and sucked, the flavor at once salty and slightly savory with a bitter edge. Comprehension dropped on him like a brick to the head, or perhaps like smacking one’s jaw on the edge of a table. Keith made for the exit. He needed to go find Shiro.

_Oh right. Lance._

Lance raised a brow and blocked the way with his leg as Keith approached, challenging. “You were definitely doing something. Probably something nasty.”

“I don’t have the patience for you right now,” Keith replied, placing one palm on Lance’s chest and shoving him aside.

He didn’t look back.

+

Keith knocked on the entrance to Shiro’s room just before trying the handle. It was locked. Pressing his ear to the pocket door, he could just barely hear movement inside. Impatient for it to open, he rapped again, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and trying not to squirm in discomfort. He clenched his muscles, the effort an exercise in futility.

“Hey Shiro, let me in,” he called, this time banging on the door with his fist until it finally opened.

Shiro glanced down at him, but quickly looked away and re-focused his stare to the floor tiles, tight lipped, his mouth drawn into a thin line of embarrassment.

“What’s going on?” Keith asked, reaching up to Shiro’s face, eyes searching, concern knit in the furrows of his brow.

Shiro pulled away and covered his mouth with his hand. “I’m sorry, Keith. I…” he trailed off.

“Come on. Look at me.” Keith reached for Shiro’s free hand. Taking a step closer, he drew Shiro’s fingers to his lips then pressed them into his cheek. “Spit it out.” It was a quiet demand and he was unable to disguise the edge of annoyance. Why would Shiro be ashamed?

Yet Shiro shook his head. “It’s really gross.”

Keith shifted again to keep himself from giving in to the relentless itch. He reached up to pull away the prosthetic hand from Shiro’s face.

Finally, Shiro looked at him, meeting his gaze with warm brown eyes. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead and through the fade of his undercut. His lips parted slightly as if about to say something, but he seemingly changed his mind. Instead he sighed in submission and leaned forward to Keith’s level, opening his mouth just enough to reveal the creamy plaques of infection on his tongue and inside his cheeks, all the way to the back of his esophagus.

Keith inhaled the sweet, heady scent of his breath. It was as he had suspected. “You have thrush.”

“Thrush? Isn't that a bird?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “ _Candida albicans_?”

Shiro stared at him blankly, tilting his head to the side.

“A yeast infection?”

“In my mouth?” Shiro asked, dubious.

Keith nodded slowly, as the reality of their situation crystallized in his mind. Lightly, he squeezed Shiro’s hand. “Let’s go to sick bay. There’s sure to be something on this ship to get rid of it.” He turned to exit, towing Shiro along.

“Wait a sec., how do you know this?”

Narrowing his eyes, Keith turned back to Shiro. “How do you think?”

+

“Why are you walking funny?” Shiro asked.

Keith stopped dead in his tracks, letting Shiro’s hand fall free. Perspiration ran down the back of his neck, plastering his hair in clumps to his skin. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the little hitch in your step.” Shiro turned to look behind them before smacking Keith soundly at the curve of his rump. “While you have a very fine,” he paused, mouth screwed up in thoughtful concentration as he searched for just the right word, “ _derriere_ , you’re all tight like you’ve got something _stuck_.”

“Well, maybe,” Keith replied, reminding himself to breathe through his irritation, “just maybe, you’re not the only one with a problem needing medical attention.”

“You’re not suggesting…” Shiro trailed off. “Wait. What got stuck?” He hooked a finger over the waistband of Keith’s pants and began to pull, but was immediately swatted away.

Keith’s face had frozen in horror. He stood on tiptoe to peer around Shiro, making sure this exchange wasn’t being watched. It was not. “No.”

“But-”

“ _There is nothing stuck in my ass!_ ” He spun on his heel and continued stalking down the hall.

+

Upon arriving at the medical unit, Keith and Shiro realized they had no idea how to search for anything. Cabinets and shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling. The space was laid out more like a laboratory than a doctor’s office, completely open with no privacy. Keith wondered at the preservation capacity of the ship. Like food goo, how was it that drugs could presumably be preserved for over ten thousand years? Were years for Alteans the same as years for humans? A dark path of existential philosophy opened before him, threatening to destroy the very fabric of this reality. Perhaps he was better off not asking those questions.

Everything was labeled in Altean and neither of them could read it. Keith scanned the room. “Where do we even start?”

“No idea,” Shiro answered as he wandered over to the left side of the room.

Keith sighed. They might as well start looking. He turned to the right.

Like most of the castle ship, this room was large and uncannily sparse. Very little was left in view, and looking over the shelves and opening the cabinets gave no indication of the contents therein.

“You know,” Keith broke the silence, “we could put on the med suits and hop into the pods.”

“I’d rather not. Everyone will notice.”

He nodded. It was true, and Keith wasn’t sure he wanted to try the med pods yet anyway. Observing Shiro’s nightmare as the wound from Hagar healed had set him to wondering what his own experience would be like. He’d rather not know.

“Hey Keith, come here. I think I found something.”

“What is it?” He jogged over, the friction of the movement heightening the tingling discomfort, and he balled his fists together at his sides to prevent himself from trying to relieve it.

Before them was what appeared to be an examination table, although it looked more like a security scanner turned on it’s side, consisting of a flat surface with a mattress, small pillow and sheet within a glass capsule where a curved scanning device was fixed on a track inside the enclosure. On a side panel, in brilliant glowing aqua, was the basic outline of a person and associated diagrams for using the device.

“I guess this is our doctor.” Shiro suggested, kneeling down to look more closely.

“Yeah. So what, you get inside, someone outside shuts the lid, presses that,” Keith tapped his index finger lightly on the blue button beside the panel, “and then hopefully it will give you a diagnosis?”

“Something like that.” Shiro replied, looking over the images again, following with his finger from one to the next. “You first?”

“Me?”

“It’s not going to be me. If this thing goes haywire, I promise I’ll get you out.”

“Wow, thanks for that vote of confidence in this ancient alien technology.”

“You’re welcome. You’ll be fine. If this ship wanted to hurt us, it would have done so by now.”

“Uh… it kind of already did?” Keith pressed his knuckles to his sinuses, recalling the corrupted energy crystal replaced weeks earlier with a new one from the Balmera, and shook his head. Backing up to the table, he lifted himself onto the exam bed with his arms and swung his legs up. He was about to lie down, but the blue lights suddenly turned red and a soft warning beep sounded in triplicate every two ticks.

“I think you’re supposed to take off your clothes.” Shiro offered smugly, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“I see what you’re up to.” Keith kicked his boots off then shucked himself of his shirt and tugged his pants down to his ankles, yanking them off with his toes and letting them drop in a pile on the floor, all of this while Shiro watched appraisingly. As soon as he had finished, the pulsating noise ceased and the red light returned to calming blue. His palms smoothed over the soft linens lining the bed, and he gripped the fabric, shifting a little to one side. One leg spasmed uncontrollably, but instead of succumbing again to the searing itch, he jerked the sheet up between his legs and pulled so it stretched taut through his crack. Keith then took the fabric between his teeth, biting down hard and tugging, easing some of the tension he felt from trying to ignore his problem. Suddenly realizing how ridiculous he must look, he covered his face with his hands and sighed, resting his head on his bent knees. He finally understood Shiro’s reluctance to speak to him that morning. Sure, there were worse things than vulnerability, but weakness through intimacy seemed contrary to the way relationships should work. Everything about this sucked and not in a good way.

Shiro leaned over into the exam bed, placing his hands lightly on Keith’s side, gliding up and across his shoulders. Gently, he pulled Keith’s hands away from his face and gazed into his eyes. “It’s not like I haven’t seen or tasted every inch of you,” he whispered, resting his cheek at Keith’s elbow for just a moment. “You’re fine.” Keith let him push his head down toward the pillow.

“Don’t even think it.” Keith stabbed his finger firmly in the direction of Shiro’s chest.

“I know. Don’t kiss you. Got it. I have mouth fungus.” Shiro’s fingertips traced the curve of Keith’s back and hip, patting Keith on the bottom before stepping away. “However,” he pursed his lips, “it would seem that you have it in your anus.”

“If that was a joke, it was very bad. Don’t use that word again.”

Shiro snorted back his laughter. “You don’t want me to talk about orbiting Ur-”

“No!” Keith cringed and watched from within as Shiro closed the capsule over him and latched it. Checking the diagram, he proceeded to input a sequence into the control panel.

The lights flashed and Keith relaxed his limbs as the scanner moved back and forth over the length of his body. When it was finished, the machine beeped twice and the lid unlocked, raising itself slowly, this time on its own. Sitting up again and curious, Keith bent over to see the report flash on a panel to the side. No longer able to control the urge, he absently reached behind himself to jab a finger into his hole. Keith dug at the source of his discomfort, immediately grateful he’d trimmed his nails. Two slightly different humanoid outlines, each with a glowing dot at the source of the infection were displayed followed by a lengthy column of Altean text. He wondered if the examination machine had detected Shiro’s presence before the capsule closed. One of the two figures was definitely larger than the other. On the other hand, it had identified the same source of ailment on both. It was probably just glitchy after being out of use for so long.

“Should we run it again?” Shiro asked, also looking at the figures.

Keith shook his head. Not knowing what he had just subjected himself to, he was not keen on participating in a second round, though to be fair, it couldn’t be any worse than cosmic radiation, could it? They had certainly been exposed to enough of that. A little more wouldn’t hurt.

Shiro scrolled through the report, a wry smile on his face as he pretended not to notice where one of Keith’s hands had disappeared. At the very bottom was what looked like a button. Keith pointed to.

“That’s in the diagram.” He pulled out his hand and gripped the edge of the capsule bed, swinging his legs back over the side and hopping down, landing on the balls of his feet. He gripped the waistband of his pants with his toes and bent his leg back and up so he could grab it.

Immediately after Shiro pressed the button, a loud thump and whirr was heard nearby. From a small door set into the wall, came a hiss, as if a great pressure had been released and a white mist escaped as the door raised up and a tray extended from within the cavity containing an unlabeled tube and a slim white applicator about the length of Keith’s palm with a white ovule, slightly longer than the first two joints of his thumb, fixed at one end. The ovule was coated in a translucent sheath of what appeared to be a gelatinous lubricant.

They bent over together, peering at the strange egg before turning to each other and then back to it again.

Standing up with his shoulders back, Keith crossed his arms defiantly over his chest. “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no?’”

“I mean _no_.”

“Look, Keith, you can’t spend the rest of your life with your hand up your bang hole.”

“Actually, I think I can.”

Shiro cautiously picked up the applicator. “You can do this.” He licked his lips in hesitant resolve. “ _We_ can do this.”

“No. _We_ can’t. _We_ aren’t.” The agitation and near panic in Keith’s voice was evident now and he tried to side away but Shiro caught him by the wrist, pulling him back.

“You’re working yourself up. Just calm down.” Shiro relaxed his grip.

He took a deep breath, then another and caught himself about to scratch again, knowing the best course of action would be to just take it. There was pretty much nothing he was willing to do in the presence of anyone but Shiro at the moment for fear of being caught with his hand literally up his own ass. It was kind of selfish, really. Who would pilot the Red Lion, for one? As a paladin, he kind of needed to be able to form Voltron. And someone had to be there to rescue Shiro, who always seemed to be getting himself into trouble instead of out. He sensed the tickle of the itch coming on again. Yep, okay. He could do it. Shaking the hand off his wrist, Keith stretched his arms up, standing on tiptoe and cracking his spine. He raked a hand through his hair, wiping the sweat up off his forehead as he did so, his body glistening with perspiration. A trickle of moisture collected below his sternum and travelled down his belly. He wiped at it, momentarily distracting.

“Okay. Fine,” Keith relented. “Maybe we can.”

Shiro pulled over a stool from beside the counter and sat down, patting his thigh. “Quick and painless?”

Keith cut him a level glare, eyeing the egg and glancing again at the tray. He grabbed the tube and unscrewed the lid, squeezing just a bit onto his finger. Lube.

Passing it over, he bent across his lover’s lap. “Make me wet.”

There was nothing remotely sensual about Keith’s flat delivery and the corner of Shiro’s mouth ticked up in a small smirk, taking the tube and applicator in his prosthetic hand. “I think I can accommodate that request.” He ran his other hand along the curve of Keith’s spine, drifting across the dimples in his back and lingering over the smooth curve of his buttocks.

“Will you just hurry up?” The annoyance was clear in Keith’s clipped and impatient tone.

“Shh! You’re breaking my concentration and you’re too tense. You aren’t helping.”

Keith inhaled, filling his lungs to a count of four before exhaling. “Patience. Yields. Focus. My. Ass.”

“Exactly.” Shiro let his fingers slide up again to the small of Keith’s back and then idly back down, right to his crack, the rim of his hole and then past, where he began gently rubbing and stroking, right at the perineum.

It helped. Keith closed his eyes, trying to slacken his muscles. He was starting to sweat again, the heat expanding up from his groin to his stomach. “Mmm…” He groaned. “Shiro, I can’t believe I’m going to let you stick a fucking egg up my-”

“Shhhh.” Shiro cut him off. “How does this feel?”

“It would be better if I weren’t clotheslined across your lap.” That translated to “awkward.” He was nervous and didn’t want to know what Shiro was looking at, but he imagined he was red and raw and puffy. The motion stung a little, likely from scratching and breaking the delicate skin. Shiro’s fingers were warm enough he didn’t mind the cool, slick feel of the lube beneath them. Keith was hard now. He couldn’t help it, though he had tried, and was determined to ignore it. The blood rushed to his head and his dick throbbed against Shiro’s thigh as he tried to readjust his position. He couldn’t quite reach himself.

And Shiro only had two hands.

Moving his fingers back up to the taut rim, Shiro slowly and carefully inserted one as Keith shivered and bucked. Cautiously, he stretched wider, applying pressure to Keith’s prostate from inside. Sure and steady, working up to two, three, four...

He had it. A ragged gasp escaped Keith’s lungs and his breath came out harder, though he was trying to maintain control. Shiro took the opportunity to remove his hand and begin to insert the ovule, working his patient from the outside again. As the egg began to enter, Keith’s eyes rolled back and he gripped Shiro’s calf tightly, raising himself up as he arched his back. The unrelenting force made his toes curl, and as the widest point passed through him, Keith cried out high and sharp, grateful for the pre-slickened shell. His entire body stiffened; tears mixed with pain and pleasure collected at the corners of his eyes.

Shiro pushed farther and when the egg was adjusted into position, he released it and pulled the applicator out. Leaning over Keith, caressing his hair and coursing firm hands over his back and sides, Shiro whispered softly, “You did great.”

Really? He could have punched Shiro for that condescending tone, though he knew it was only intended in jest. Considering what he was now feeling, Keith wondered. While there was little actual size difference between the girth of the egg compared to that of Shiro’s dick, he had been extremely wary of the former. Why? It made very little sense. Perhaps his reluctance had something to do with the purpose. The ovule was supposedly medication, while Shiro’s cock was a living source of carnal gratification provided to him in the form of another thinking, breathing, feeling human being with a mind, an agenda, thoughts, and words. Complex emotions were attached to the person, existed within that person. The egg? _Are you yolking?_

Something about this line of thought seemed compromising. He told himself to stop.

Righting himself and raking his hands through his hair, Keith straddled Shiro. He could feel the coating from the egg sliding down in dollops, dripping from his balls onto the floor between their legs. “Fuck you. Where’s my lollipop, Doctor?” Practically growling and unable to muster a pout, the best he could do was sneer. _You’re not good at role-play_. He stopped trying.

“I don’t have one of those on hand, per se, but I might be able to produce a substitute.” Shiro grabbed him from behind and firmly drew him closer, squeezing as he did so. “I wouldn’t mind the fucking either.”

Keith draped his arms around Shiro’s neck to steady himself, rocking back and forth. “Don’t you dare kiss me. Or touch me anywhere with your mouth.” He said that, but the discomfort in his groin was not going to subside quickly on it’s own. Would it really be so bad? His stomach tensed and his muscles trembled involuntarily.

“I suppose that’s fair. How about with my hands?” Shiro asked, pulling his fingers up over Keith’s hips and down the length of his thighs. He ran a knuckle along the length of Keith’s shaft, and wiped the droplet of precum from his slit before looking up with sultry eyes and thrusting the finger into his mouth, gnawing on his fingernail and scraping it along the points of his lower canines.

Forcing himself to remain still, Keith took Shiro’s hand in his. “How about you get in the capsule first and we finish once you’ve also been medicated?” He wondered what bizarre antidote Doctor Castle Ship would prescribe for thrush.

“But Keith,” Shiro whined. “Can’t we-"

“You just shoved an egg inside me.” Keith interrupted. “I let you do that. There is an egg-sized alien-made egg-thing _nestled_ in my rectum. If I hatch a xenomorph out of my ass, I might have to reconsider our relationship.” He was on edge, itching and burning with a twitch in his loins that was not going away. This ovule was certainly no miracle drug, and he had just been victimized by a kink neither he nor Shiro has asked for. On top of that, he might just have enjoyed the eggsperience and he wasn’t quite sure how to process that realization. _Just embrace it_ , he told himself, shrugging off the trepidation. Keith sighed.

“If you birth an alien, you might be dead.”

“I’d come back from the dead for you.” Keith’s lips melted into a grin as he pressed his forehead to Shiro’s.

“Would you now?”

“You know it. From the ends of the universe.” He paused. “You did for me.” That much was true. He had Shiro now and that was what counted most. Extracting himself, he stood to let Shiro up. “It’s your turn. Let’s find out what the magic capsule prescribes for your ailment.” Keith picked up his pants and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear.

Shiro hesitated. “You know, there’s probably a lot of fungicide in that egg-thing.” Keith listened to him, knowing where this was headed but could not look at him. Listening to Shiro attempt bedroom talk filled him with second-hand embarrassment. He’d much rather just fuck and leave words out of it all together.

“Given the size, I have to agree with you. Yeah.” Walking over to where he’d tossed his shirt, Keith decided he felt constipated and hoped that whatever was supposed to happen with the ovule would happen soon or at least soon _ish_. Otherwise he’d probably have to give himself an enema.

Or have Shiro give him one.

“Yeah, and I bet I could help you with your problem.”

 _Which one?_ “Look, I’m not saying it was bad. It wasn’t bad. It was just… weird.” Midway to the examination capsule, Keith stopped. He tugged his pants on, over one foot then the other before pulling them up and tucking his erection into his waistband. He pivoted one hundred eighty degrees to face Shiro and cocked his hip, throwing up his arms. “I mean, what happens when I have to take a dump?”

“Hopefully you won’t.” Shiro raised a brow in question. “Why did you put your pants on?”

“Because my ass cheeks were hanging out, my dick was cold, and I had science-magic egg lube dripping down my thighs.” It was an honest answer, though he immediately regretted the sharpness in his delivery. Not that Shiro cared. The man just stared at him like usual. Comfortable. Perhaps he was getting too comfortable.

It didn’t matter.

“Also,” he continued. “Would you please eggsplain how, eggsactly you went from Mr. Does-not-want-to-discuss-an-infection-in-his-mouth all the way to ‘Let me lick your yeasty ass, Keith?’” Keith folded his arms and waited for a response.

Shiro’s face lit up at the terrible egg puns. “Something about watching you agonize over your ailment made me realize, my eggsperience wasn’t nearly as bad.”

“Get in the capsule.” Keith commanded, pointing to the examination bed in exasperation.

Shiro complied, stripping himself of his garments before clambering in awkwardly, his height not quite making up for what he lacked in flexibility. The machine seemed to be working now, producing a diagnosis and prescription with only one humanoid figure. When it came Shiro’s turn for a prescription, the replicator produced a small bottle with a spray cap.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Keith muttered under his breath as the steam-like haze mingled in smoky tendrils around it before clearing. “Mouth spray?”

“Looks like it.” Shiro took it in hand and spritzed it twice into his open mouth. He hummed with a hint of surprise. “Mint.” Setting the bottle aside, he turned to Keith, extending a hand. “Shall we?”

Keith took it and squeezed, nodding in confirmation as they climbed onto the capsule examination bed together.

**Author's Note:**

> I know what you’re thinking. You want to know why I would write something so utterly absurd, and this is that, if nothing else. It started in a movie theatre. I’d just come out of the Sailor Moon R dub (another hilarious, over-the-top thing, if you haven’t seen it), and was discussing the wankery of fandom with my friend. Said friend, who is not particularly into VLD but apparently sometimes role-plays it, mentioned a recent rp session they’d participated in that happened to be klance ovipositioning. I think the little eggies were all up in Lance. I think. I don’t eggsactly remember who was doing what to whom or who even got eggpreg. 
> 
> I kind of lost it. I mean you’ve got to be yolking, right?
> 
> Yes, I admit it; I am a dirty, dirty kinkshamer. 
> 
> Okay, not really. I mean, it’s not my kink, but I just found this rp re-telling to be particularly amusing. In the fun sort of way.
> 
> And then I thought, “Huh. Ovipositioning, but with one of those over-the-counter yeast infection remedies might be pretty damn funny.”
> 
> If you’ve ever eggsperienced Monistat 1 or have seen the commercials, you know what I’m talking about. 
> 
> I was too embarrassed to ask this of the Voltron Kink Meme. I absolutely refused to be that person. We all know that person, the one who posts a prompt and then when no one bites, responds to their own. In the end, I had to write it myself. 
> 
> Clearly, I am no longer mortified.
> 
> I might also have no shame. 
> 
> Do I remember actually putting all this to words? I’m not sure, but here it is, the consummation of a fever dream.


End file.
